


By Design

by EntreNous



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Crushes, F/F, Gen, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-24
Updated: 2006-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-25 06:39:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1636919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntreNous/pseuds/EntreNous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Miranda is not my nemesis," Andy objected. "Okay, so I was wrapped up in that world when I worked for her, and it's no surprise that her obsessive control got to me.  Sure, I complained about her all the time, but anyone would have."  She poured herself some more wine.  "I'm different now."</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Design

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Jae W for the Yuletide Challenge.

 

 

Andy shifted in the chair next to her editor's desk. "You want me to do a story on the taste-making trends at the different publications of Elias-Clark?"

"And I want to see some copy by a week from Wednesday," David confirmed. He glanced back down at his Blackberry in a gesture of dismissal.

She stood, but gave an uneasy laugh. "Just . . . you remember that Elias-Clark is the parent company of _Runway_ magazine, right?"

At that he glanced up. "If you need a few leads, your former contacts at that magazine should help start you off. But we're not looking for a memoir about your time at _Runway_. Think larger trends at magazine conglomerates, umbrella groups tying together the disparate audiences of multiple brands. Of course Elias-Clark is the best known of those."

"Right, of course," she muttered as she scribbled on a pad of paper.

"Wednesday," he reminded her, and then went back to his work.

*

"Just think of it as another story assignment," Lily said. She raised her wine glass to her lips and smiled at the waiter who'd been flirting with her. "Don't get worked up because the topic has some minor connection to your old nemesis or whatever."

"Miranda is not my nemesis," Andy objected. "Okay, so I was wrapped up in that world when I worked for her, and it's no surprise that her obsessive control got to me. Sure, I complained about her all the time, but anyone would have." She poured herself some more wine. "I'm different now."

"You've grown, you've changed," Lily supplied with a grin.

Andy raised her glass to that. "Absolutely."

"You've changed so much, you probably don't even remember when Miranda's birthday is," Lily noted while she studied the menu.

"That's easy; it's--" Andy began to answer and then stopped herself. "Birthdays are just things you remember. Even if I do know that off the top of my head, that doesn't prove . . . whatever it is that you're trying to prove."

"Oh, yeah, everyone probably knows when Miranda's birthday is," Lily agreed. She took another sip of wine. "Kind of like they probably know she takes a venti decaf no-whip mocha every morning."

"Grande skim no-foam latte with an extra shot of espresso," Andy corrected. Then her face fell. "Oh . . ."

"Yeah, oh," Lily said. She smiled at the waiter when he came over. "Let's see, I'll have the Pan Seared Tilapia with Chili Lime Butter, and my friend here needs a double order of Moving On With Her Life."

Andy made a face while the server blinked and double-checked his dinner specials cheat-sheet.

*

She almost kept walking when she saw Nate pass by in Chelsea, but when he stopped to greet her, Andy stopped too.

"Andy, hey." He gave her a half hug. They each drew back at the same moment, laughing a little. "Wow, it's really great to see you."

She nodded. "You too. It's been a while." She cleared her throat. "So, you're here visiting? In town to see some friends?"

He took a step away so they wouldn't block sidewalk traffic. "Well, that too. But the main reason I'm here is that I've got a second interview tomorrow."

"Second interview?" she asked.

"At Haut-Rhin. If it goes well, I might be moving back here."

She clutched her shoulder bag. "That's the new restaurant in Nolita?"

"That'd be the one. They need a sous-chef. After I happened to meet their chef de cuisine when he was in Boston, they called me to come down and talk."

"That's so wonderful," she said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. "Really, that seems like a fantastic career move for you."

"Yeah, it would be." He gave her a small smile. "Though it was probably easier for you to have the ex-boyfriend at least four hours away, huh?"

She laughed and nudged him with her elbow, like she used to in those first months in college when they were still only friends. "Okay, maybe it would be a little strange for me, knowing I might bump into you in the city again. But there are, what now, 8 million people living here? I think I can deal."

He shrugged. "If it helps any, I don't know if I have the job yet. You might not have to deal at all."

*

Later that same evening, she ran into Emily at a trendy spot in the East Village. Though Emily didn't exactly ask her for specifics about her life, Andy mentioned the story she was working on, as well as Nate's news about his interview.

"Haut-Rhin." Emily adjusted her lantern-sleeved blouse with a frown. "That's the restaurant Miranda's fiancé has an interest in."

Andy choked on her Manhattan. "What? Miranda's connected to that restaurant somehow?"

"You know, I'm a bit surprised Nate was made an offer," Emily continued. "I mean, honestly, Andy, I know you were always on about how your ex was some sort of talented chef. But all he ever seemed to make for you were grilled cheese sandwiches." She sipped at the bright green drink in her martini glass and eyed the bruschetta Andy picked at.

Andy sighed and decided to change the subject before Emily began lecturing her on the evils of carbs. "That looks good, what you're drinking. Is it a sour apple `tini?"

Emily shot her a disgusted look. "No one's been drinking apple `tinis for ages now, Andy. Try to keep up."

*

The next day, Andy stopped her editor as he walked past her desk.

"David, I was wondering. Did Miranda Priestly . . . call and request that you put me on this story? I . . . the reason I ask is, there was just something else I found out about last night, and I started thinking, maybe Miranda would ask for me once she heard about the feature, if she thought I might present a sympathetic viewpoint. And let's face it, she's not exactly shy about pulling strings."

David crossed his arms as he leaned against a table. "Are you seriously suggesting that I take orders from the doyenne of a fashion magazine when I hand out assignments?"

She paused before forcing a laugh. "No, no. Of course not. I thought, might as well ask --"

He turned away, saying only "I'm looking forward to seeing that copy," as he walked off.

*

"Guess what?" Lily asked that night when they met at the new tapas restaurant, even before Andy had a chance to open her mouth and say hello. "A magazine called the gallery, and then contacted my agent. They're thinking of including me in a spread featuring up-and-coming artists! I'd get a page for my work, and there would be a profile or something about my training, my influences, and where people can buy my pieces."

"I'm so happy for you," Andy said. "Who is it that's considering you?"

Lily's eyes narrowed. "Promise not to get all weird when I tell you."

Andy's fingers tightened around her water glass. "Of course not. Why would I get--"

"It'd be at _Runway_ , for the September issue," Lily said quickly. "But the Arts Editor said she's had her eye on my work for some time now, and . . . see, I knew you'd get all weird," she added as Andy made a croaking sound.

*

"Why is she doing all of this to me?" Andy pleaded with Nigel two days later. She had stopped by _Runway_ for a scheduled interview with Elias-Clark's Vice President of Marketing, and though she'd meant to leave the building for downtown, her feet had turned along the familiar walk over to Nigel's area.

He kept right on arranging transparents on the lighted drafting table. "And what is it exactly that she's doing?"

She forced herself to take a deep breath. "It's not only the coincidences of Nate's interview and Lily's phone call. I found out last night: Nate _did_ get offered that job at Haut-Rhin. And just this morning, Lily got word from _Runway_ 's Arts Editor that they _are_ going to include her work in the September issue. And even though my editor made it seem like I was crazy, I just know that Miranda had _something_ to do with getting me on this story."

He gave her an appraising look. "Andy, you do know that Miranda has a thousand and one things that are just, oh, a little higher on her priority list than running and/or ruining your life, don't you?"

She shook her head. "If it was one thing, just the article, or just Nate getting the job . . . but it seems like a few too many coincidences to me."

"Hmmm." He moved the layout pieces, leaned back to examine his work, and then spread his arms to span the width of the drafting table. "Andy, are you implying Nate doesn't deserve the position at Haut-Rhin on merit, that he's only gotten the job because of your relationship to Miranda? Or that Lily isn't an artist whose work deserves to be featured, and she's only getting the attention because Miranda has made it her business to make you squirm?"

She threw her hands into the air. "I'm not being paranoid about this Nigel, I swear!"

He smiled at her, half in exasperation, half in fondness. "Of course you're paranoid, Andy. You wouldn't be a New Yorker if you weren't."

When she gaped, he looked down again. "Sounds like a big story that you're working on. You better get to work on it."

After a moment, she gathered her things and left.

*

"So I met another one of Miranda's former assistants," Andy spoke into her phone. She did a little hop so she could balance her umbrella, her café au lait, and her new black Coach Mandy Leather Courier as she raised her arm at the corner.

"No," Lily protested. "You mean you and Emily weren't the only ones ever to work for Miranda since the beginning of time? I don't believe it."

"Very funny," Andy answered. The cab she'd hailed stopped, and she climbed inside. "Columbus Circle." Then, back to Lily, "This new person has a job at Seventeen, and we spoke at lunch for like two hours."

Lily made an impatient noise. "I still don't get why you're trying to track down all of Miranda's past assistants. Aren't you supposed to focus on the whole company, not just _Runway_?"

"Of course, right; I know that. But the article's about taste making, and who better to explain the stuff behind the scenes than the people who really _are_ behind the scenes?"

"It doesn't sound like what David wants," Lily pointed out.

"He'll love it," Andy predicted.

*

"I hate it," David said as he tossed the pages back to her. "Get me something else."

"But we'd be presenting a really bottom-up view of the economics of taste-making, working in the angle of the un-tabulated hours and energy put in by the many underpaid assistants," Andy said as she flipped through her notebook. "And it's not just at _Runway_. I'm leading in by focusing on what several of Miranda's assistants have been up to since they left those jobs, sure. But naturally there's a broader focus that builds as the article continues."

He drummed his fingers on the desk.

"Right," she said, rising from her chair and going back to her desk. "I'll get on it."

*

After speaking to the Creative Director of Elias-Clark's new men's magazine that would be debuting in the fall, Andy ran into Nigel again.

"How's that story of yours going?" he asked her even as he glanced over at a group of models gossiping by the reception desk.

"It's fine." She brushed the hair out of her eyes and dug through her bag for her notes. "I don't know. I was taking it in this one direction, and I still think it would have been the way to go, but my editor seemed to think -"

He gave her a wry smile. "You know, if you want to make the case that you've moved on from your time at _Runway_ , it'd probably be best not to start speaking to all of Miranda's ex-assistants."

She whipped out her notebook. "She talked to you about that? I knew there was something going on with all of this! What'd she say? Can this be on record?"

He guided her away from the group of people passing them in the hall. "No, Miranda hasn't said a thing to me about your little article. But word travels fast around here; you know how it works."

At that moment, two young women in Chanel suits and Jimmy Choos crashed into each other as they each tried to clear the entrance to the hallway.

"Miranda," Andy said under her breath.

Because it was Miranda, walking along in a stunning, classic ensemble. A skinny girl followed in her wake while trying desperately to keep up with Miranda's stream of instructions.

"Call Rei Kawakubo's people, tell them I _will_ appear at the dinner party being given in my honor at 8:30, but make sure my driver will be outside at 8:45 precisely so that I can attend the fund-raising gathering for the Roundabout Theater for ten minutes before dropping by the opening party for the Costume Institute's retrospective on Metallics in Fashion."

She strode purposefully over to where Andy and Nigel were standing. "Nigel, good; we'll meet in twenty minutes to go over the accessories for the spread on oversized couture. You're the only one who can make any sense of the preparations these girls have muddled." She glanced over at Andy. There was the barest hint of recognition in her eyes, perhaps the start of a small smirk on her lips. Then she gave Nigel a nod, and waved off her assistant, saying, "That's all," before leaving.

"Did you see that?" Andy asked Nigel. She held her notebook close to her chest. "She didn't say one word to me."

He gave her a bemused look. "Hmmm. You've moved on, though, didn't you, Andy? From fashion, from _Runway_ , from Miranda."

She stood up just a little straighter. "Yes. Yes, I have."

"So move on," he suggested lightly as he followed the path that Miranda had taken.

 


End file.
